


Not By Halves

by Yuliares



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Falling In Love, Human Disaster Eddie Brock, Introspection, M/M, Moving On, Not as angsty as it sounds, Therapy, introspective fluff, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 20:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuliares/pseuds/Yuliares
Summary: Valentine's Day is coming up, and Eddie Brock is a Work In Progress.Eddie is utterly, completely, alone.They do that sometimes. Once a month, in fact. Once a month, on the first of the month, he and his symbiote twist and pull and disentangle, stretching until it feels like they might break - and then they do - breaking into two separate beings, and it’s a lightning-quick flash of pain and loss, between an inhale and an exhale. And then the pulsing black mass that won’t ever shut up dunks itself wordlessly into the goldfish bowl (the goldfish long since consumed) with a splash, and Eddie grabs a beer and staggers out to sit on the shitty apartment balcony, alone.
Relationships: Eddie Brock & Venom Symbiote, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote
Kudos: 33





	Not By Halves

**Author's Note:**

> I hear it's Monster March! I like monsters. Here, have some introspective fluff that you can make as shippy as you like through the magic of your imagination.

It’s February, and Eddie is drinking a beer, staring at the words “Valentine’s Day” on his phone’s calendar.

He is utterly, completely, alone.

They do that sometimes. Once a month, in fact. Once a month, on the first of the month, he and his symbiote twist and pull and disentangle, stretching until it feels like they might break - and then they  _ do _ \- breaking into two separate beings, and it’s a lightning-quick flash of pain and loss, between an inhale and an exhale. And then the pulsing black mass that won’t ever shut up dunks itself wordlessly into the goldfish bowl (the goldfish long since consumed) with a splash, and Eddie grabs a beer and staggers out to sit on the shitty apartment balcony, alone.

He twists the metal cap off and chucks it down into the alley, staring out at the cold, grey sky and wishing he’d thought to grab a coat.

The beer cap pings off the side of the dumpster he was only half-heartedly aiming for.

Eddie Brock is a Work In Progress.

He’s got a job now. It’s a small paper, something for crunchy granola types, but he gets to write mean things about energy conglomerates, so that’s okay.

He’s got a therapist now too, which everyone tells him is  _ great _ and  _ wonderful _ , and Eddie doesn’t know how to explain that he lies to said therapist  _ constantly _ . In his defence, it’s kind of impossible not to, but every so often, and he says something that’s true.

It’s terrifying, and his therapist probably hates him.

But.

He’s trying.

They talk about Anne, and self-worth. Eddie said straight out, right from the beginning, that he didn’t want to talk about morality, because he’s not sure he can handle a conversation on what it means to take a life when he’s had human viscera between his teeth, and fully expects to do so again.

They still end up talking about it, because violating the trust of people you love apparently falls under the ‘morality’ umbrella, but that’s fine.

It’s fine.

He fucked up and he’s fine. He’s learning.

His therapist says that self awareness is important, and you can build that by being reflective and mindful.

That’s why he’s sitting here, shivering, and pausing for interjections that never come. He’d complained to Anne about  _ emptying his thoughts _ and being _ fully present _ , and she had pointed out that it might be hard to be mindful with a mind literally full of, you know, an entire other consciousness.

Eddie hunches his shoulders. Therapy is such a drag.

Does he have another appointment coming up? He can’t remember. And that brings him back to now, and February 14th labelled with a single line of text that makes his heart squeeze anxiously and his fingers slip against the smooth neck of the beer bottle. One nail catches on the rough paper label, but it’s not enough to keep him from sliding.

Sliding down a sheer glass wall, glinting splinters like rain, ten stories up and heart pounding harder than it ever has before.

Last year, such a long long year ago, he bought Anne roses. He imagines dumping a ribbon-wrapped bouquet into Venom’s arms and a helpless giggle worms its way out of him. The laughter grows, shaking him as he clutches the metal railing, until it passes as suddenly as it came, leaving him limp and wiping his eyes.

Behind him, on the coffee table, his alien is impatiently waiting for Eddie to come back. Trusting that he will. Trusting him to share his body and his mind and all the tiny things like - like taste buds and dorito dust and sitcoms and skateboards - god, skateboards, Venom was convinced that with enough practice they could skateboard off a semi and it would look awesome - and scratching the ridge of a shoulder blade and naps, even the sweaty ones where you were too tired to truly get comfortable and the blanket only gets kicked halfway off.

Not his better half.

Not a half at all.

Just Venom - alien and human and together, something more.

The beer is only halfway gone, but Eddie picks it up and stands anyways, turning to grab the cold handle of the balcony door.

No roses, this year. But… a lobster, maybe?

He pulls open the door, and leaves loneliness behind.


End file.
